The last time that I seriously put pen to paper (digitally speaking) was in September 2014, shortly before my grandfather died.

My grandfather had a good death. Until a fortnight or so before the end, he was in remarkably fine health: living in his own home and still driving his car all over Auckland. My aunt, a former chorister, was holding his hand and singing to him as he died. His funeral was on his 98th birthday. As I type I can hear him saying that a funeral isn't really what he wanted as a birthday present.

I'd always had a good relationship with my grandfather, but over the last few years we'd drawn even closer together. He had written two books; I had (inadvertently) become a builder. He would email me for advice on his manuscripts. I would phone him to draw upon expertise from his long career as a joiner and carpenter. A typical question from me would take the form: “I've figured out a way to do X, but I'm sure there must be a simpler method—is there a clever trick that I don't know?” There usually was.

My grandfather's absence has left a surprisingly large hole in my life; and there have been many occasions when I've found myself wishing that I could talk with him again. I certainly had a lot more to learn from him. Not only about joinery, cabinet-making, carpentry, and design, but also about the psychology of a long project on a limited budget.

My previous engineering jobs had been conducted more-or-less in series; a new project was started only after the previous one finished. But my ongoing earthquake relocation/repairs/restoration have been conducted massively in parallel: extensive landscaping, building a garage and sheds, repairing and repainting the house exterior and roof, and restoration of every single indoor room—all at the same time.

I find myself rushing from crisis to crisis, often working inefficiently as a consequence, occasionally making a rod for my own back by not dealing with a crisis in time. A recent example is the repair of a complicated bay window that I only managed to get finished and under-coated a few days before cold weather struck. In all probability the undercoat will lift over winter and I'll have to scrape it off and re-prep in spring—a depressing waste of effort.

Thrown into this mix is my son Bob's ongoing difficulties with the educational system, which has resulted in home-schooling him one day per week. We call this our Engineering Day—the theory being that Bob learns arithmetic, basic physics, problem-solving, and design via a series of small engineering projects (admittedly there might not be any actual educational evidence to support this as a theory of learning). In the evenings, a video is uploaded to his YouTube channel to prove to school that he has genuinely been doing something all day (a typical example can be found here).

I certainly don't begrudge Engineering Day with my son in any way, but the preparation and execution time further slows my building work—and, of course, makes any of my proper jobs (such as writing) even more difficult.

Undoubtedly, however, the most stressful and upsetting event of the past 18 months has been my father's near death. It seemed that we had scarcely buried my grandfather when my father became seriously ill with a bacterial infection that he contracted via a minor scratch. I know that he won't want me to dwell on any of this—but as a consequence of the bacteria infecting his heart valves, he had a stroke and then full heart-valve replacement surgery. He was left apparently paralysed (even down to his eyelids) for a frightening number of days; in a semi-coma for 24 days and under serious medical intervention in the ICU for 38 days.

Those who have been through a similar experience won't need to be told how shocking it is to see someone you love undergo an experience like this. Witnessing my father apparently paralysed and completely dependent on life-support machinery is one of the most harrowing sights of my life. As someone who finds conversation with even non-comatose people rather difficult, my attempts at cheerful and reassuring dialogue with my comatose father weren't a notable success (my brother likened it to someone saying something exceedingly stupid whilst leaving an answer-phone message, who then keeps on talking in the desperate hope of making what he's said seem somehow less stupid, during which time he manages to say a number of even stupider and more ridiculous things).

Astonishingly and thankfully—and despite the probably damaging effects of my attempted conversation—my father has managed to pull through his illness. Mentally he is completely unaffected by his ordeal; bodily he's made extraordinary progress. He has regained virtually full physical functionality, but his endurance is still very low and he must rest often. No doubt this will mend in time. He (and we his family) have had the nearest of near misses.

Perhaps this is all something of a dog-ate-my-homework-ish explanation as to why I haven't written for so long. At any rate, I should probably take this opportunity to apologize to regular readers of Southerly (if there are any left) for the very long silence. I feel that the February earthquake literally and metaphorically knocked me off my feet—and that somehow, unfortunately, I've never managed the metaphorical getting back up again.

I'm attempting to think of ways that I can provide material for this blog in my post-earthquake circumstances, but nothing is particularly coming to mind. I don't think that prose is the format for documenting my current life as a builder (my sole attempt was deathly dull); and regardless of its suitability (or not) as a format I fall asleep as soon as I sit down of an evening these days.

Something will no doubt come to mind eventually. In the next few weeks I do hope to post a few pieces of writing that have been nearly finished for some time. In the meantime I'd like to thank you all for your patience.

77 responses to this post

On re-reading this piece (written a few days ago) I find it to be somewhat more gloomy than intended. I should point out that plenty of people in Canterbury still have unrepaired and falling-down homes – and, of course, that nowadays there are a lot of people throughout Canterbury and New Zealand with no home at all. I’m up early (a time of day that I greatly enjoy) and the sun is shining; my life certainly isn’t bad in any way – I didn’t mean this blog to come across as a complaint.

What a wretched few years for you, David. I've been wondering how you are. Not so good, as it turns out.

I sometimes go back and read one of your old posts, because something somewhere reminds me of it, and it is a great pleasure to go back and enjoy your writing, your turn of phrase and your wry sense of humour, and the sense of a smart, quirky mind reflecting on and finding delight in the world.

Reading some more of your writing will be a great delight, if and when you're ready.

Thank you so much for your very kind message, Deborah! I do consider myself lucky – an extremely lovely wife, children, extended family, and friends. But the last few years have certainly been difficult it has to be said, and it's very frustrating that I've been unable to do the writing (and other more intellectually satisfying activities) that I’d like. I did have a very enjoyable day off recently when the Lovely Ian Dalziel (TM) came out to visit the wilds of Dunsandel – quite the treat & some very interesting discussions were had.

I think much of my worn-downness stems from the fact that I don’t get any psychological payoff from actually finishing anything – I just fire-fight the current emergency job & then move onto the next. The most I seem to manage is mild relief that an expensive disaster had been avoided.

Plenty of people are employed in jobs for years with no job satisfaction whatsoever (I was myself), so I certainly can’t complain…

Thrown into this mix is my son Bob’s ongoing difficulties with the educational system, which has resulted in home-schooling him one day per week. We call this our Engineering Day—the theory being that Bob learns arithmetic, basic physics, problem-solving, and design via a series of small engineering projects (admittedly there might not be any actual educational evidence to support this as a theory of learning).

That's what I do. Today's job involves trying to get a 1500 steel hollow ball winched into place ready for a sculpturing project (photos to arrive here in a day or two).

I wouldn't say your writing comes across as complaining, it's just telling it like it is. And I get it. My main source of dissatisfaction lately comes from computers not talking to machines. I am juggling Windows 2000, xp, 7 and Ubuntu plus the latest Mac OS systems so I can run verios bits of software to try and run old second hand robots. This is not my default, I have to use my tenacity skills I picked up during " engineering day" I have just recently managed to get a Roland mdx 20 to listen to an Ubuntu computer over a serial cable, and now it's milled something with an 0.4 end mill. (photos on there way).

Crikey, that certainly puts any current difficulties of my own into perspective -- using Windows OS to run software for controlling robots [once did this myself and still recovering psychologically (mind you, it finally convinced me to fully move to linux)]. Sounds like some bloody interesting projects there, Steven...

David, I have missed your posts and this explains all. You don't come over as complaining but things have not been going your way. My wife is believer in bad things coming in threes ( personally I think it depends on when you start counting) so count your blessings and look on the bright side of life.Oh and the aforementioned wife ( teacher, Principal, clever clogs etc) says you are doing a great job "as parents as first teachers".All the best.

I dunno, some people can write about paint drying and it sounds interesting. Literally about paint drying. Well done, David.

Cheer us all up by writing about holidaying in Hawaii.

I have a friend who's taken time off cancer treatment to visit Melbourne (complete with wig that vaguely resembles her usual hair). I get the impression that one of the big benefits of being away from Christchurch is the lack of reminders that you're in a city still recovering from a series of disasters. The weather is nicer, but mostly it's the "I'm on holiday" vibe. Which I thoroughly recommend.

Although this may not be the best week to visit Sydney. We had an outburst of weather last weekend.

Crikey, that certainly puts any current difficulties of my own into perspective – using Windows OS…

Thats nothing, I went all the way over to lower hut to buy a spanner, only to discover when I arrived back home that the nut I was planing to use it on was British.

Hay, it just occurred to me to ask if you and Bob are counting in sixtys on your hands during engineering day? I remember vividly how my school teachers forced me to count in tens when I went to school.

Nah, the Babylonians make Asimov look like a shirker. The whole point of base 60 is that you can easily count in base 60 on your fingers. Five fingers times 12 joints means you get to 60 on one hand, and by the time you run out of fingers you've probably also run out of daylight. 3600 is quite a large number when you're counting things. I'm sure they also have tricks for multiplication as well as addition.

(my brother likened it to someone saying something exceedingly stupid whilst leaving an answer-phone message, who then keeps on talking in the desperate hope of making what he’s said seem somehow less stupid, during which time he manages to say a number of even stupider and more ridiculous things).

Can I say, in the nicest possible way, that I had no trouble imagining this?

You know those friends you have, that move away and it’s like years between the times you see them, neither of you are the daily writing to each other types so you have no contact.

And then you are in the same town and you meet up for coffee and the conversations just pick up where you left off as if there was no gap in the friendship at all.

I’ve had a couple of those experiences recently. The first when I was buying milk from my local farm (which coincidentally, is the one which has just been closed down due to TB). I recognised an old friend I haven’t seen for forty years. That was a joyous occasion.

The other person was Wayne – he was my best man when we married in London way back in 1986. I’d made numerous attempts to track him down since we returned to Godzone, but he keeps a ridiculously low profile and had all but disappeared into thin air.

Then last year I remembered he had a brother who worked in computing in Dunedin, so I rang around various IT shops until I finally located Wayne. That meeting was one of those "just like yesterday" experiences Bart described and now we’re best mates again. Life can be wonderful.

I love your engineering days with Bob. Whoever would have thought an LED light bulb could be so hard to break into?

it just occurred to me to ask if you and Bob are counting in sixtys on your hands during engineering day

I’ve asked Bob and he is aware of Base 60, but not the counting on your fingers trick. We shall investigate!

David Hood wrote:

I endorse building a linear magnetic accelerator with ones child

Very cool, David, thanks for the suggestion. That looks like a great idea!

Russell Brown wrote:

Can I say, in the nicest possible way, that I had no trouble imagining this?

Alas, no-one else who knows me has seemed to have been at all surprised by this either (also in the nicest possible way)…

Tristan wrote:

You should take all of the kids in your sons year for one day a week!

That’s a very kind suggestion, Tristan. I have wondered if this approach might also be helpful to other children (essentially extending university Engineering School down into the primers) – it would be interesting to experiment. Safety is probably a difficult issue for some other parents; I’m comfortable with the idea that starting with tools early makes you safer in the long run, but I note that some of Bob’s viewers outside NZ have strongly disagreed with me on this, and indeed one has well-meaningly asserted that I would be prosecuted in the UK for letting an eight-year-old use a drill press, table-saw, bandsaw, table-router, etc, etc. But I was using most of these tools at around Bob’s age – without the modern safety guards – and I still have all my fingers. My only (mildly) serious accident was being knocked unconscious as an adult due to safety glasses fogging up. [Touches every wooden object in sight!]. P.S. You’ll note from the videos that Bob only wears safety equipment when there is an actual hazard, e.g noise, flying particulates, etc. However we’ve lately discovered an anti-fogging spray for our safety glasses that actually works, and so I’m now instituting a policy of always getting Bob to wear safety glasses while in the workshop (just to save anyone the trouble of emailing me about this).